


The Angel Returns

by moreagaara



Series: The Emperor Revived [8]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Rage, Blood Magic, Cross-Post, Cross-Posted on deviantArt, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Deviates From Canon, Emperor Revived, Explanations, Fanfiction, Fights, Flesh Tearers - Freeform, Gen, Help, Literature, Mental Instability, Mental Link, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on deviantART, Play Fighting, Post-Canon, Research, Resurrection, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Soul Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 06:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreagaara/pseuds/moreagaara
Summary: Okay!  So, as previously mentioned, this was written during a period in which I was bringing all the Primarchs both back to life and to Azeroth.  Because reasons.  Also Legion was the current expac at the time, and thus new Dalaran was the home base for most things, thus why there is an Imperium Island basically stapled to the place.  The current war mentioned at the tail end of this is between Daenus and Sargeras/a dude named Uskary (previously appearing in Leman's Quest) who happens to be Daenus's grandfather.  For those who are interested, the Imperium works on both sides of the faction war, in my opinion, but for the most part the Traitors/Chaos-aligned people choose the Horde, while the Loyalists/Emperor-aligned people choose the Alliance.  There are, however, Loyalists working Horde and Traitors working Alliance, primarily to keep an eye on what the others are doing.  Also, I think we all know, given Omegon's experience, that he would keep an extremely close eye on what the Slaugth were up to, including making a special map for the purpose of tracking them (thus why he flipped out so hard when Magnus breaks it).  Yes, it does get fixed, and it will probably never be mentioned again in these pieces, and Magnus is fine.  Really.  He's fine.  It's fine.  They're fine.  It's fine.It's fine.Anyway, Peep Ownership.Games Workshop:  WH40k and relatedActivision Blizzard:  World of Warcraft and relatedkaibun-creations:  Uskary (since I mentioned him in the description)Disturbed:  "I'm Alive"me:  the writing and the Emperor's name
Series: The Emperor Revived [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1447444
Kudos: 4





	The Angel Returns

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So, as previously mentioned, this was written during a period in which I was bringing all the Primarchs both back to life and to Azeroth. Because reasons. Also Legion was the current expac at the time, and thus new Dalaran was the home base for most things, thus why there is an Imperium Island basically stapled to the place. The current war mentioned at the tail end of this is between Daenus and Sargeras/a dude named Uskary (previously appearing in Leman's Quest) who happens to be Daenus's grandfather. For those who are interested, the Imperium works on both sides of the faction war, in my opinion, but for the most part the Traitors/Chaos-aligned people choose the Horde, while the Loyalists/Emperor-aligned people choose the Alliance. There are, however, Loyalists working Horde and Traitors working Alliance, primarily to keep an eye on what the others are doing. Also, I think we all know, given Omegon's experience, that he would keep an extremely close eye on what the Slaugth were up to, including making a special map for the purpose of tracking them (thus why he flipped out so hard when Magnus breaks it). Yes, it does get fixed, and it will probably never be mentioned again in these pieces, and Magnus is fine. Really. He's fine. It's fine. They're fine. It's fine.
> 
> _It's fine._
> 
> Anyway, Peep Ownership.  
Games Workshop: WH40k and related  
Activision Blizzard: World of Warcraft and related  
kaibun-creations: Uskary (since I mentioned him in the description)  
Disturbed: "I'm Alive"  
me: the writing and the Emperor's name

Alpharius wasn’t terribly happy about being interrupted once he got into the flow of something; it tended to take him hours to get back into the same flow, and that was if he didn’t get distracted by another project. On the one hand, the behavior did allow him to keep track of hundreds of different trains of thought at once; on the other hand, it was irritating to being so close to discovering something important, and then to suddenly lose whatever it was he had been thinking about. Granted, Magnus _did _deserve to be haunted by whatever ghosts Omegon could call for breaking the Slaugth map.

_I think you might be going a little too far, chief, _he thought towards his brother, who neglected to respond. Omegon was in a coldly distant analytical state, where his emotions played little role in his actions; at the moment, he simply watched as the ghosts began to drive their magically inclined brother towards actual madness. Alpharius hesitated, then ensured that Crawyen knew what Omegon was getting up to before pushing the ruined map away and staring at the empty table in front of him.

Perturabo could definitely fix the map and was even present on Azeroth, but the chances of him letting it _stay _fixed… Alpharius sighed. Better to do it himself, once his brain reclipped onto the puzzle of shattered glass and broken screws. And better to let the problem simmer in the background of his mind while he worked on something else. Alpharius stood, then let his eyes and hands drift around the mess that was his study. 

An analysis of the hrud? Interesting, but Perturabo had more or less solved that problem with his stasis field just before his…incident on Olympia, and wouldn’t be happy to learn that Alpharius was poking into what he considered to be his business. The wulfen affliction among the Space Wolves? Leman had given Alpharius permission to look into it, but hadn’t been enthusiastic about Alpharius fixing the problem. Something in his tone suggested that Leman already knew everything he wanted to know about the curse and might even be able to fix it; why he hadn’t could be potentially entertaining, but at the same time…

There were always the Primaris Space Marines, but Guilliman had outright refused to allow any to Alpharius—even as a Successor Chapter—and Alpharius wasn’t completely convinced he wanted any. Besides, Daenus was still reviewing the second “extra” implantation, though he had given his approval to Belisarius Cawl to continue with his research and for the Primaris Marines to continue being produced. Alpharius had reached the end of his study and was about to pace to the other side when a plain black book caught his eye.

He picked it up and examined it carefully; there was no title on the outside covers, and the book was entirely in Omegon’s handwriting. As usual, his twin switched languages frequently, on occasion mid-sentence; also as usual, his twin had written in a mix of ciphers. Even as familiar as Alpharius was with his twin’s typical style, it took considerable mental power to parse out what Omegon was saying.

The first few chunks were largely about the Red Thirst that cursed Sanguinius’s Blood Angels. Alpharius remembered learning about the affliction; one of the Alpha Legionnaires he’d inserted into Sanguinius’s forces had discovered it after one of the Blood Angels he’d been fighting with fell to it. The Angel had been convinced that the Alpha Legionnaire was an enemy, and the Legionnaire had needed to play dead until Sanguinius turned up to kill the afflicted Angel; the Blood Angel apothecaries had saved the Legionnaire, but Sanguinius had been rightfully confused when the Legionnaire disappeared without a trace shortly after he was well enough to resume fighting.

_Obviously he wants this kept secret, _Omegon wrote. _And I think my brother is right that we should keep this secret with him, at least until after the Crusade is over and Daenus can devote some time to fixing this…whatever it is. _Later, he continued: _Had some time to poke around the Palace library with Magnus and Perturabo; some of the books reference ancient Terran monsters called vampires. Description of vampires matches the Red Thirst and the Blood Angels generally. _Even later, after having stolen one of Daenus’s diaries—the ones he’d kept while looking for his lost brothers/Primarchs and had stopped keeping as he’d found each of them in turn—he wrote: _I don’t think Daenus made a mistake with the Blood Angels._

There was a gap of a few pages, and then a short and sketchy map noting where Omegon had stashed the copies of the references he had used. Alpharius would have gone looking for them, but some of the markings on the map seemed to correspond to something other than the Red Thirst. And the Blood Angels—along with all their Successor Chapters—did carry a second curse. Even so, there was only one note in the entire rest of the book on the subject:

_What if Sanguinius is trying to come back?_

The question sparked Alpharius’s mind into action. If Omegon was correct, then there was a decent chance that Alpharius could help recover another Loyalist Primarch. More importantly, a Loyalist Primarch that Guilliman had generally gotten along with. He might even thank Alpharius for doing something for a change. The Red Thirst could wait; the Black Rage, however…

Alpharius looked around the study now, following the markings indicated on the map. Most of the books had been lifted from the Blood Angels’ (or their Successors’) libraries, and had been written by a variety of Chapter Masters, Apothecaries, Librarians, and Chaplains. Most of them had multiple dog-eared pages, and chunks of their text highlighted. By the time Alpharius had finished reading through the highlighted portions, it was perfectly clear what Omegon was thinking.

The Blood Angels—and their Successors—were suffering the exact same symptoms that the Alpha Legionnaires suffered right before Alpharius or Omegon took over their bodies. Their fellow Legionnaires had all confessed as much, when either Primarch asked—which they had to do, since neither Primarch could truly remember the moments between their deaths and their rebirths. The progression was always the same for the Legionnaires Alpharius or Omegon overtook: first they would stop seeing the world around them, then they would express the emotions Alpharius or Omegon had been feeling at the moment of their deaths (typically battlerage and bloodlust), and finally they would seem to die for a second. Then their Primarch would be reborn within their body.

The difference between what happened with Alpharius’s Legionnaires and the Angels (and Successors) under the Black Rage was that the Angels never progressed past the second stage. Alpharius, for his part, suspected that that much had quite a lot to do with Sanguinius himself. Either he was unable to use his psychic ability to overcome his gene-sons’ souls completely (to be fair, he had never trained or even to Alpharius’s memory experimented), or he was unwilling to do so. If it was the latter, Alpharius fully meant to show Sanguinius the terrible price his failed attempts were exacting upon his sons; one way or another, he would stop.

Of course, the first step was to initiate contact with them. The most neutral possible way to do that was by astropath. Fortunately, Daenus kept a choir of them on the Isle just off Dalaran, and also fortunately, all the proven loyalists had full access to that choir. Unfortunately, Guilliman was slightly more restrictive about their access, and (not unreasonably) didn’t fully believe Alpharius’s claims of loyalty.

It was possible, however, that Leman might be willing to help.

~~*~~

Leman, thankfully, was in Stormwind, resting from some business in the Grizzly Hills—something involving a wolf cult and a troll Leman was convinced would betray him. He was also in one of his most boisterous moods, having managed to drink several dwarves under the table. Alpharius was half convinced that no one believed his story about the retrieval of Banelight, but rather than dispute it, simply took a seat at the table where he knew Leman would eventually see him.

Leman did, and his eyes narrowed; Alpharius gestured upstairs, where there were several private rooms, and usually at least one unoccupied. Leman growled, but finished his story and made his excuses to follow Alpharius up. Just as the last time they had met, Leman closely inspected Alpharius, and Alpharius tolerated the procedure while Leman crossed his arms. “What do you want.” It wasn’t a question.

“I would like your help with something.” Seeing refusal in his brother’s eyes, Alpharius promptly continued before Leman could speak. “I believe Sanguinius is attempting to return to the Imperium.”

That caught his lupine brother off guard. “You think what now?”

“I think that Sanguinius is attempting to return to the Imperium and has been for ten thousand years via the Black Rage. I also think I can help him get here, but the problem is getting the Blood Angels or one of their Successors to agree.” A little more elaboration might help; Leman did prefer people speaking plainly, and it was probably best to be open with him in this particular case. That way, Leman should pick up that Alpharius was being both serious and truthful.

Fortunately, Leman wasn’t completely inclined to refuse Alpharius any longer. Unfortunately… “And what exactly do you want me to do about this?” At least his tone was more neutral.

“Help me convince Roboute to let me near the astropaths so I can talk to them.” There. A small task that wouldn’t require Leman to get involved in the actual discussion in any way.

“That’s it.” A disbelieving tone that indicated Leman had expected Alpharius to ask far worse.

“That’s all I need you to do,” Alpharius confirmed. _Please say yes, _he mentally pleaded.

Whether Leman heard him or not didn’t seem to have any bearing on his decision. “Fight me,” he declared.

_I really should’ve guessed, _Alpharius sighed. “If I somehow manage to win, you’ll help?”

“Sure. And if you lose, you can consider yourself in service to me for a century,” Leman grinned. Alpharius was certain Leman would find the worst possible tasks for him to do during that century, but fortunately, Leman wasn’t completely aware of Omegon’s existence and therefore hadn’t bound him.

And it was only a century. “Fine. There’s a nice field outside where we can go all out without hurting anyone else. Unless you’d like to go fight on one of the moons or something.”

“The field is closer and I don’t feel like teleporting today,” Leman said, stretching. “Meet you there.”

~~*~~

Alpharius decided to fight with his preferred weapon: a spear composed out of the strange rustless metal he had scavenged so frequently on his original home planet, charged with a small amount of his soul. Nowhere near enough that the spear could actually consume either his or anyone else’s soul, but more than enough to make getting through power armor the easiest thing in the world. Between the spear’s length and his sheer speed, he was able to avoid getting beaten to a bloody pulp by Leman.

Unfortunately, Leman wasn’t too keen on the idea of not getting to hit Alpharius at least once, and also wasn’t particularly keen on Alpharius’s dodge-every-blow style of fighting. At first, he got angry; his anger made his blows heavier, but also much easier to predict and avoid, and Alpharius used this to draw first blood via a slice to his cheek. The wound healed over instantly—surprising absolutely no one—but it was enough to bring Leman to his senses.

So he started using his runes—both those he’d learned on Fenris and those he’d learned during his stint as a death knight—and Alpharius promptly lost the upper hand. The only good news, he supposed, was that he was able to warm himself through Leman’s rune-empowered frost calling with his blood magic, and thus the fight stabilized again. However, as the sun burned towards sunset, Leman began to get more inventive with his runes and faster with his sword; eventually, Leman finally got close enough that he could bring Banelight to bear, and Alpharius had no choice but to call his own ghost sword.

“Cheating!” Leman spat, but kept pressing Alpharius, who in turn had no choice but to fall back from his brother’s assault.

“You said two weapons! This is weapon two!” Alpharius protested. Leman responded by punching him in the face and disarming him, aiming for his brother’s primary heart and their agreed upon ‘kill’ point. Alpharius only just managed to grab and deflect the sword into a lung instead, and recall his sword directly within Leman’s own primary heart. The shock on his brother’s face wasn’t worth it, in Alpharius’s opinion.

It was around that point that both Leman and Alpharius realized they’d acquired a sizable audience, nearly all of them residents of or visitors to Stormwind. One of them was the new young king, Anduin Wrynn; another was their brother-Emperor, Daenus. Alpharius coughed somewhat awkwardly and unsummoned his sword, allowing Leman to pull his own sword out of Alpharius’s chest. Several hurried and embarrassed explanations later, Daenus walked away, grumbling about egos, while Anduin commended the pair of them for their combat skills—though he did ask that they not frighten people by apparently trying to kill each other. 

Leman grumbled something that sounded like an agreement; Alpharius blatantly refused the king, but did so in Hindi and while bowing, and thus the young king was satisfied. Leman insisted on going to Dalaran separately from Alpharius—which suited Alpharius just fine, as he had shopping to do—and thus he had nearly an hour to work on Roboute before Alpharius arrived.

“You really think Sanguinius is capable of coming back?” were the first words out of their brother’s mouth when Alpharius arrived. The question wasn’t too far off from what Alpharius had been expecting.

“Yes,” was the simple answer, but it didn’t satisfy Guilliman any more than it would have satisfied Alpharius in his position. Alpharius therefore drew a breath and elaborated. “I believe that he can return from death largely because I can return from death. For the record, I also believe the two of you can return from death, along with all of us Primarchs.” Guilliman raised his brows but didn’t comment. “That being said, even though we all have the power to bring ourselves back, it is a difficult process, and it does involve killing someone.”

“How so?” Leman asked; he was leaning casually back in his chair so that it was balanced on two legs. Even so, his arms were folded somewhat tensely across his chest and his eyes were hard; there wasn’t much separating him from Alpharius should he choose to attack.

Alpharius watched him carefully while he answered. “In the best case scenario, my arrival into the randomly selected space marine’s body simply disconnects the native soul. The soul then dies and goes on to…whatever it is awaits humans after death. You’d have to ask Daenus about what that is. I’ve never been since our rebirth, and I don’t think I’d remember in any case.” Guilliman seemed pensive, but didn’t speak. He did, however, put a hand on Leman’s knee and guide his chair back down. “In other cases, however…the native soul tends to cling to its proper body, which can result in either its total destruction or worse,” Alpharius didn’t want to admit to his brothers—and certainly not to Daenus—that he had accidentally consumed two souls in the process of coming back. Omegon had consumed far more.

For a while, there was only silence. “Let’s assume for a moment that I do let you visit the astropath choir,” Guilliman eventually said, leaning forward to regard Alpharius directly. “What would your message to the Blood Angels be?”

“It would be to the Blood Angels and all their Successors, actually,” Alpharius started, but Guilliman simply motioned for him to continue. “The message would be—”

~~*~~

_To all Astartes of the line of Sanguinius, the Alpha Legion has determined that there may be a way to end the Black Rage. Interested Chapter Masters may request Alpharius attend them on their home world; per the Lord Commander’s request, he will come alone and unarmed._

~~*~~

It was several months before any Angel chapter sent a reply to Dalaran; even then, as Alpharius suspected from Guilliman’s edits to his original message, most suspected a lie at best and Chaotic influence at worst. The Blood Drinkers were among the most vocal opponents to the plan; the Blood Angels merely called Alpharius names that the receiving astropath refused to repeat to the Primarch’s face. Of all the Chapters, however, the Flesh Tearers sent no reply.

At least, not until they officially arrived in orbit around Azeroth and requested Alpharius’s presence. Alpharius responded immediately, taking the personal ship he kept parked beneath the Dalaran (near one of the exits of the sewers; Alpharius still wondered what happened to the waste that accumulated in the sewers, since there was a thriving undercity in the sewers and only water fell out of the exit pipes). It was a simple flight up through the atmosphere to where the Flesh Tearer ship was anchored in low orbit; there was even an airlock partially opened in the belly of the battle barge—now that Alpharius was close enough, he could see the ship for what it was—to admit Alpharius’s personal ship.

Alpharius wasn’t entirely surprised to find that the Flesh Tearers had not brought their Primaris brothers along with them. He was surprised that their Chapter Master—a man named Seth—was waiting for him personally in the cargo bay, once he had properly docked his ship and exited. “Is it true?” Seth asked without preamble.

“It is,” Alpharius answered. There was no need to ask what he meant while Alpharius regarded his welcoming committee. One hundred Flesh Tearer Astartes, all bearing power or chainswords, in full armor save for the helmets clutched under their arms. “…I’m surprised you only brought one hundred battle-brothers, considering I’m still not in Guilliman’s good books,” he commented.

“Save for our Primaris brothers and those in the Tower of the Lost, this is all that’s left of the Flesh Tearers,” Seth informed him without a single muscle twitch betraying emotion. Even so, Alpharius read no small amount of anger, distrust, and desperation into his overall stance. “The Lord Commander was generous with his donation of Primaris marines.”

For a long while, Alpharius could find nothing to say. “…I am sorry,” he eventually managed, lowering his head. It was no wonder they hadn’t immediately rejected his message. “I should explain quickly, then. Is there a place where we can all sit down on board?” There was no point in asking for privacy with only a hundred Astartes; news travelled quickly in such a small group, even among normal humans, especially when there were secrets to be uncovered. Besides, the Chapter Master would likely have interpreted his request for privacy as an insult.

Seth nodded, and led Alpharius to the mess; no one bothered with chairs, instead opting to push the tables and chairs out of the way so that Alpharius could directly face Gabriel Seth and the others could surround them, weapons at the ready. Alpharius closed his eyes; the insult wasn’t worth getting upset over even if his reputation was solid gold. He began speaking before he reopened his eyes. “I would share with you all a secret of the Alpha Legion before we begin. It is relevant, I assure you.”

“And then there is the fact that you are untruthful even when it doesn’t matter,” Seth pointed out. “We have no way of knowing that anything you are going to tell us is true, especially in regards to your own Legion.”

“First of all, Chapter Master, I am somewhat insulted that you think I would lie to you about my brother and your Primarch,” Alpharius opened his eyes; he knew they glittered coldly, and many of the marines around him shifted to a more weapons-ready position. “Second of all, any decent Librarian can detect the truth when it is spoken.”

“We have no Librarians save for those within the Primaris marines,” one of the other marines—a techmarine, Alpharius spotted—spoke out of turn. He was promptly silenced by his fellows, but the twitch of a frown on Seth’s face confirmed the statement.

“Ah. Well, the Emperor can appear anywhere he is needed,” Alpharius pointed out. He spotted refusal on every face around him. “I rather doubt he will mind being called by a staunchly loyal branch such as yours, or that he will mind being used as a simple truthsayer. If he does, let us say that the sin is upon my head alone.” The Chapter Master hesitated, but Alpharius saw the only full apothecary in the group bow his head and murmur words even Alpharius couldn’t quite catch.

“You don’t have to be quite so subservient, Apothecary Edaros,” the Emperor commented, stepping into view from behind one of the support columns. Every head besides Alpharius’s snapped up to look at him, and more than one hand strayed to a weapon before they realized who it was. The Emperor was unperturbed, however, and threaded his way through the group—pausing briefly to lay a hand on the Apothecary’s shoulder before he settled in the middle of the group with Seth and Alpharius. Once comfortable, he moved his hands faster than any of the Astartes could track and came up with a simple quartz crystal; Alpharius saw that he used a hidden blade in his armor to cut his hand and create the crystal from his blood.

Once he had it, he held it up for the Astartes around him to see. “The crystal will turn gold when the truth is spoken in its presence,” he said, and it did the moment he paused for effect. “It will turn black when a lie is spoken.” The crystal continued to shimmer quietly gold; no one seemed brave enough to speak any lie, so Alpharius shrugged and spoke himself.

“I’m an only child,” he chirped; the crystal promptly shuddered black, the Astartes around him either shook their heads or covered their faces with a palm, and the Emperor glowered at him. Alpharius merely grinned back at him.

“I should throw this at you,” the Emperor eventually growled; the crystal faded back to its original clear state after he finished speaking. The Chapter Master, however, simply allowed Alpharius to speak—first about the secret of his Legion, and then about his proposed solution. Even with the Emperor physically present, the idea that Sanguinius was attempting to return through his Astartes—thus causing the Black Rage—nearly started a riot.

~~*~~

The trip from Azeroth to Cretacia was thankfully smooth; the Emperor guided them safely through the near-Warp to the edge of Imperial space, and from there, the Flesh Tearers’ Navigator took over. They were more beset by Chaotic intrusion than usual—primarily by minions of Tzeentch, which didn’t surprise Alpharius in the slightest—but the Geller field that protected them held stable. Alpharius wasn’t terribly impressed by the first sight of the planet, swathed as it was in green-grey clouds, but he held his tongue; his Legion, after all, had colonized far stranger planets. The Chapter Master noticed his silence, but returned it with his own; he and Alpharius completed the trip down to the planet in a Thunderhawk—faster and more maneuverable than the Stormbirds Alpharius’s Legion favored. _I should see about changing that when I can._

When the Thunderhawk broke through the cloud cover, Alpharius’s eyes widened. Below were millions of trees, and among them roamed massive beasts nearly as tall as an Imperial Titan. Winged beasts as large as the Thunderbird streaked past—veering out of its immediate path—and insects almost half as big as a mortal human considered the craft as it descended towards a stone tower perched on the slopes of a mountain.

_So that’s what a Tower of the Lost looks like._

Sentry servitor-guns rotated to face the Thunderhawk; the craft turned to expose the Flesh Tearers’ symbol, and they did not fire, but continued to track the craft down to the ground. Alpharius waited for Seth to exchange a hurried conversation with the guard—after a few glances back, Alpharius found something else to focus his attention on—and for him to descend the ramp first. Alpharius exited in a small swarm of Flesh Tearers—enough to do some serious damage to the Primarch before he could take them down—and was permitted to pass by the Primaris marines manning the gate, after a rather heated discussion with Seth (during which Alpharius paid very close attention to a bush with brilliantly purple-white flowers near the gate).

And yet, though Alpharius had been very closely watched and guarded throughout the entire journey from Azeroth to the very gate of the Tower, he was permitted to enter with the Chapter Master as his only Guard. Alpharius soon discovered why, the moment they ascended from the base of the Tower—where the yet-sane guardian Flesh Tearers dwelt—into the dungeon where the afflicted Flesh Tearers were kept. Alpharius was attacked at nearly every turn by enraged, howling Astartes; though he had no choice but to defend himself, he did everything in his power to ensure that his attackers lived through the experience.

“Why bother?” Seth asked him quietly, after three floors of constant attack; he had been somewhat less careful not to harm his maddened battle-brothers than Alpharius. Alpharius looked at him, silently regarding him for a while. “Why bother letting them live? They’re not your sons. All due respect, Primarch,” he continued, though his tone and posture clearly indicated that he meant no respect at all.

Alpharius looked at the hall before them; he wasn’t relishing the prospect of walking through it, but he had promised. “Because it would be needlessly cruel. It’s not their fault they’re like this, Chapter Master.” He continued forward, prepared for another Astartes to launch themselves at his throat with teeth bared. A few moments later, he heard Seth do the same.

They were not attacked. The sheer strangeness of the prospect made Alpharius slow, carefully watching every corner of the long hallway for any outline, any hint of movement, but only his footsteps—and those of the Chapter Master—echoed around them. Every cell stood empty, their doors—each of them as thick as Alpharius’s hand, and made of hardened adamantium—wide open. One of them had been torn off its hinges and thrown across the hall into another cell; a Flesh Tearer—his Glands already harvested—lay crushed beneath it.

Alpharius stopped at the scene; his body did not move, but his spirit spun slowly within it, taking in every detail of his surroundings. Skin prickled on the back of his neck, and instinct nearly made him draw his ghostly sword. Instead, he made loose fists and resynced his body and spirit. “Sanguinius? Are you here?” he called. Something stirred in the dark just within his peripheral vision, and the moment Alpharius shifted—meaning to protect the Chapter Master—it pounced.

At first, Alpharius wasn’t sure what it was; it moved too quickly to be a space marine—even one afflicted by the Black Rage—and it had two too many limbs. Somewhere, it had gotten its hands on a power sword, and was using it with deadly precision against Alpharius, although it seemed to be gazing into the eyes of someone ever so slightly taller than Alpharius. It was only after Alpharius listened past the echoes of its shouting that he realized it was speaking Sumerian…

…and that it was talking to Horus. Alpharius ducked under a swing to ram his shoulder into the figure’s stomach; when it attempted to recover, he grabbed its sword hand and twisted just enough to make holding the power sword unfeasible. “I am not Horus, brother, and you are not on Terra!” he shouted, also speaking Sumerian. “You know me, Sanguinius! Look at me!”

The former Astartes—face mutated into a mish-mash of his own original features and Sanguinius’s—blinked. For an instant, reality seemed to register. “Alpharius?” he asked, fingers twitching in Alpharius’s grasp.

“Yes, Sanguinius. I am Alpharius.”

For a few seconds, Alpharius thought he’d managed to reach Sanguinius. For a few seconds. Then the former Astartes punched him in the throat with his free hand, forcing Alpharius to let go of his other hand. “Traitor!” the afflicted marine bellowed, now disregarding his stolen sword entirely in his mission to punch Alpharius to a bloody pulp; Primarch though he was, Alpharius couldn’t block every blow the maddened marine threw, and settled for protecting his face and neck instead of attempting to block the blows to his stomach and legs.

“I was a spy, Sanguinius! The Emperor required a spy among the Traitors, and I was the best choice!” he protested, earning himself a broken wrist for his trouble. The afflicted marine was bellowing incoherently about Isstvan V; Sanguinius hadn’t been there, thankfully, but he had heard of the slaughter. Everyone had. “I would have blown my cover if I hadn’t followed Horus’s plan! I took no pleasure in what I had to do!”

Now the marine peeled himself off Alpharius to recover his sword. Alpharius rolled away from the stab that would have impaled him through both hearts, thus killing him. The marine swung wildly, heedless of anything that wasn’t Alpharius; Alpharius fell back, considering his options. _He won’t listen to me, and he’ll kill me if he can. _The power sword burned a sizable slash clean through one of the open doors, and Alpharius had an idea. His spirit stepped free of his body, invisible to the former marine, kept the cord between spirit and body well out of the wild slashing, and crawled to Seth as quick as thought.

When he appeared to the Chapter Master, he wasn’t surprised when Seth pulled his bolter on him, but was thankful that he didn’t fire. “I’m going to lure him into one of the cells. Once I’ve disarmed him, I need you to close the door on us,” he said. Seth blinked, nodded, and reholstered his weapon. Alpharius returned to his body as quickly as he could, then altered the direction of his retreat into the cell nearest the staircase; as he expected, the former marine sensed his opportunity and pressed him harder. Alpharius bided his time, waiting until the marine was completely in the cell with him before he acted.

A knee to the crotch wasn’t honorable, but it was effective. Alpharius wasn’t nearly as strong as most of his brothers—he had only ever really been able to defeat Konrad and Corax in tests of raw strength—but he was strong enough to break a space marine’s collarbone with a bare-handed chop. The power sword fell to the ground and Alpharius kicked it away before the afflicted marine could recover; Seth, obedient to the plan, slammed the door shut with an adrenaline-fueled burst of strength.

The afflicted Astartes howled rage, and aimed hooked fingers at Alpharius’s eyes; Alpharius bit down before they could connect, and refused to bite through. Then his spirit launched itself towards the conjoined soul of the Astartes and Sanguinius, bearing both to the ground beneath its insubstantial weight—both feather-light and impossibly heavy—and grabbed the joined soul’s twisting, shifting face (now the Astartes they had been, now Sanguinius, now both, now neither) between his hands.

_The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away, _Alpharius murmured to the warped soul, almost soothing. The part of the soul that was Sanguinius stilled; a moment later, the Astartes stilled too. _There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice to change myself; I’d rather die— _and for an instant, Sanguinius’s eyes widened as he saw every death Alpharius had ever suffered. _Though they will not understand, I will make the greatest sacrifice; you can’t predict where the outcome lies. _Sanguinius struggled, but the Astartes did not; Alpharius held fast. _You’ll never take me alive; I’m alive. _Alpharius forced Sanguinius to see Alpharius return to life from each of his deaths in the space of an instant.

_I’m alive. _He showed Sanguinius Omegon, and all the deaths Omegon had ever suffered, and Omegon returning to life each time the same way as Alpharius did.

_I’m alive. _The sketched-out circle on Alpharius’s original home planet, the power Alpharius had expended to make it possible, and his reaching out to include Omegon—wherever he was—within it. Sanguinius and Alpharius carrying the same psychic power, and its origin in their mother.

In reality, the afflicted marine ripped his fingers free of Alpharius’s mouth, and threw him to the ground; he visibly shook, but didn’t continue attacking. Alpharius carefully stood up, gently grasped the former marine’s warped face in the same way as his spirit did. “Come to me, brother,” he murmured, still speaking their shared native Sumerian.

“I can’t,” Sanguinius answered; it was inarguably his voice for the moment. “I will kill him if I come closer.”

“You are hurting him by staying away. You are hurting all your sons by staying away,” Alpharius murmured, sharing his memories of what he had seen of the Black Rage. Sanguinius tried to pull away, tried to reject the shared memories as a lie, but the former Astartes with him shared his own memories of the Rage. Horrified at what he had done—what he was doing—Sanguinius held still. “Release your hold on the others. Let this one die. Come back to us.”

Sanguinius hesitantly stepped forward; for a moment, the afflicted marine’s body shifted, looking just a little more like his Primarch. Alpharius’s brother tried to take another step forward, but found his motion arrested. “I _can’t_.”

“Let me help you,” Alpharius said, offering only a spiritual hand. Sanguinius—the marine’s soul copying him a few moments later—took it uncertainly. Alpharius closed both his physical and spiritual eyes, and reached out through his brother along the whisper-thin strands that connected him to each and every marine touched by the Black Rage. Carefully, doing his best to ensure his brother felt only brief flashes of pain, he detached the fragments of his brother’s soul from the Astartes. Some of the fragments were large, like the one that Alpharius held, but others were tiny, barely enough to trigger the reaction, and of all the fallen Astartes, most of them lived. After a few dozen, Sanguinius got the idea of what needed to happen, and began to help Alpharius free him; Alpharius then began to gently and delicately pull the freed pieces back to his chosen fragment.

Slowly, steadily, the afflicted Astartes began to look more and more like Sanguinius. Alpharius heard a sharp gasp on the other side of the door from the Chapter Master watching through the cell door’s window. Sanguinius collapsed—both physically and mentally—after his last piece was freed, and Alpharius continued gently reeling the final pieces back. “Why are you helping me…you’re one of the Traitors,” he murmured, switching unconsciously back to Gothic.

“I chose to be the Emperor’s spy, Sanguinius. I betrayed the Imperium in name only,” Alpharius repeated. It was an almost constant refrain these days, and no one needed to know that Omegon had chosen to be Horus’s spy—just in case. “I’m helping you because the Rage needs to end. The Imperium needs your sons at their best…and it also needs you. Guilliman needs you. The Emperor needs you.” _I need you, _he silently added; though he would never admit it, Sanguinius had been one of his favorite brothers during the Crusade. Perhaps because they hadn’t interacted much.

“He won?” a distant murmur; the vestigial wings on Sanguinius’s borrowed back were growing larger and developing pinfeathers.

“He did.” Alpharius paused briefly, settled the final fragment in its proper place. “At a terrible cost. Horus wounded him to the point of death, and only the Golden Throne could keep him alive. For fifteen thousand years, it did just that.” Sanguinius’s wings were their full size now, though the feathers would still take several months to truly develop. Alpharius opened his eyes; Sanguinius was looking at him in undisguised horror. Alpharius met his gaze steadily. “You’ve been dead for that entire time, brother. A lot has happened…but I think the most important parts are that humanity began worshipping the Emperor as a god—”

“But he isn’t. He told them not to—” Sanguinius protested, and tried to stand; the soul of the Astartes within him kept kneeling, and Sanguinius fell over instead.

“It’s hard to protest when you’re a bloodless corpse on a shiny chair,” Alpharius pointed out somewhat drily; he helped his brother back onto his knees. “Let your son’s soul go,” _Or consume him, _he silently added; it would be better if Sanguinius didn’t know the Primarchs could eat souls, at least for now. It would be best if the Emperor told him about that, along with everything else he had hidden from his Primarchs. Fortunately he had been doing a good job about that much recently…

It took Sanguinius some time to figure out exactly how to extricate the native soul of the body he’d borrowed first from himself, and then from its body. Thankfully, it held still throughout the process, trusting and believing in his Primarch, even until the point of his death. Both Alpharius and Sanguinius saw a flicker of gold; Alpharius knew it to be the Emperor, come to escort another human soul to whatever lay beyond. Sanguinius felt only familiarity with the flicker, and focused his efforts on settling himself more securely in his new body.

“A few months ago, our father returned and healed the Emperor,” Alpharius said. The full meaning of his words didn’t quite register with Sanguinius, but that was understandable enough. “Within minutes, the Emperor was co-locating to everywhere within the Imperium. He can appear wherever and whenever he’s needed, to anyone who asks for him. About a month later, he ascended to godhood properly—kicking and screaming, as I’m sure you can imagine for someone who spent most of his time trying pretty successfully to convince everyone there were no gods.” Sanguinius barked a short laugh; he managed to stand with an arm around Alpharius’s shoulder. “He has been spending a lot of his time on a planet outside the galaxy and Imperial borders named Azeroth. It’s pretty interesting. If you’d like, I can take you back with me,” Alpharius offered as Seth opened the door. The Chapter Master hesitated before he spoke.

“Or you can go to Terra and talk to Guilliman and the Emperor there,” Seth pointed out; his tone indicated which of the two he thought was more dutiful, but everything else in his stance indicated that he would obey his reborn Primarch’s wishes.

“Either way, I’ll catch you up on as much history as possible while we’re in transit,” Alpharius said. “Although it is worth noting that Azeroth is basically the front lines of the current war…”

“What war?” Sanguinius asked suspiciously, removing his arm from around Alpharius’s shoulders and wavering unsteadily in place. Seth looked awkward, but did offer his shoulder to the Primarch to help him stand.

Alpharius laced his fingers together and looked at the ceiling. “Well…”


End file.
